Venus (and suddenly i see you)
by flowerinthedistance
Summary: A collection of soulmate AU oneshots for assorted pairings - suggestions for prompts & pairings are welcome! [1: Ron/Hermione, 2: Dean/Seamus]
1. a matter of waiting (romione)

**yep, we're doing soulmate AUs now. (this is just a bit of fun as i slowly get back into writing, so thanks for indulging me :) enjoy!)**

-o-

_AU: a timer on your arm_ _starts counting the moment you meet your soulmate _

-o-

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were perplexed by the tiny little zero marked on the inside of their daughter's wrist from the day she was born. They tried time after time to scrub it away, but it wouldn't budge, and in the end they had to assume it was just an unusual birth mark.

Hermione never believed that, though. As a child, she could spend hours on end watching her arm, waiting for the number to change.

(She always knew it would change. She didn't know how she knew, but it would. It was only a matter of waiting.)

In fact, the mark was only really pushed to the back of her mind when she was eleven years old and on a train to Hogwarts. She had so much else to be concerned about – _Had she read enough? Which House would she be put in? Would the teachers be nice?_ – that it slipped her mind.

Only when she was sitting at the Gryffindor table (_Gryffindor!_ – she was still beaming with pride) did she finally, almost absent-mindedly, look down at her arm.

Her face fell; the zero was gone. Instead, numbers were ticking across her arm like a timer, and she felt her heart sink, devastated.

This was what she'd waited for her whole life, and she'd missed it.

-o-

She asked Percy about it, because Percy was old and sensible and she knew he wouldn't laugh at her for not knowing things.

"Witches and wizards have soulmates," Percy told her sagely. "The timer on your arm starts when you meet them. See?"

He showed her his own arm, with its neat little zero on the wrist just where hers had been.

Hermione frowned. "But I didn't see when it started."

"Ah," Percy said awkwardly, like he was starting to feel out of his depth. "Well, that is rotten luck. You'll just have to hope that they did see, I suppose."

It wasn't much of a reassurance, but Hermione thanked him and headed to the library to take out all the books she could find on magical soulmates.

-o-

Days, weeks, and terms passed without any signs of a possible soulmate, and Hermione resigned herself to defeat. She began hiding the timer with long sleeves and hairbands (charms were useless, she found). Truthfully, she was embarrassed by it. It was a question she couldn't answer, a riddle she couldn't solve, and Hermione Granger was supposed to know everything.

She didn't even let Harry and Ron see it, no matter how many times they asked. They were friends now, of course, but she couldn't bear the teasing, friendly or not. Harry's timer had started too, but he was too caught up in Nicholas Flamel and Professor Snape to care about it. As for Ron, he hadn't mentioned it, and she could hardly ask when she wasn't willing to show him hers.

The first person she did tell was Ginny. Hermione was in her second year, and the younger girl approached her one evening with her wrist outstretched, the timer already running on her skin.

"It's Harry," Ginny said quietly, answering Hermione's quizzical look. "It started last year at Kings' Cross."

Somehow, it wasn't nearly as surprising at is should have been. "He doesn't know, does he?" Hermione said, but she knew the answer even before Ginny shook her head.

"I don't think I should tell him," admitted Ginny. "Mum always says there's too much pressure on him, and I think she's probably right."

And as much as Hermione wanted Ginny to be happy, she had to be honest. "I think she is too, Ginny. But one day things will be different… one day."

Ginny smiled sadly, and Hermione, in a split-second decision, pulled the sleeve up to reveal her own mark. The other girl stared at it, wide-eyed with surprise.

"I don't even know who mine is," Hermione said. "I might never know."

Ginny hesitated and then reached over to hug her. "You will," she whispered. "One day."

-o-

Hermione only contemplated her soulmate more in her third year. She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have one – _properly_ have one, not only half have one like she did. She had plenty of alone time to think about it too, what with all the arguments she and Ron were having.

(She hated hating him; they were best friends, despite everything. But she knew she was right about Crookshanks, and she was far too proud to give in first, no matter how much she missed him.)

It didn't help that students across Hogwarts had already found their soulmates. Dean and Seamus had known since their first year, and Fay had known even longer still.

"Easy for some, hey," she'd say to Ginny. It was easier to joke about it now. After all, she could contemplate all she liked, run through the long list of people she met on that first day at Hogwarts over and over again, but there was nothing she could actually _do_ except wait.

-o-

She noticed the zero on Viktor Krum's wrist at their first meeting, when he took her hand to greet her in her little corner of the library. But he was charming and he was handsome and she'd been thinking about her soulmate for three years now. It was becoming tiring, and that hope Percy had mentioned had long run out.

Her dress robes for the Yule Ball didn't cover her wrist, but for once she didn't care. She didn't care that people were talking about her and Viktor either, or that there were hundreds of eyes on them during the opening dance.

She _pretended_ she didn't care that Ron was sulking – pretended it didn't hurt when he snapped at her at the first chance he got. She had thought that _he_ might ask her to the Ball – _hoped_, even – but she was glad he didn't if he only planned to be grumpy all night.

No, she was determined to enjoy herself – soulmate or no soulmate, Ron or no Ron.

-o-

Their argument came, inevitably, when they were back in the common room after the Ball had finished.

"Good night?" he asked her sharply. She knew it was already an accusation.

"Wonderful. Yours?" she returned, all artificial politeness.

"Ideal."

Hermione fought an angry lump in her throat to ask, "I'm sorry, what exactly have I done to offend you so deeply?"

"You really don't know?" Ron asked.

"Enlighten me."

He crossed his arms and sighed before saying, "_Krum? _Seriously Hermione, him?"

Hermione blushed. She was suddenly glad that it was late enough for the common room to be empty. "Oh, come off it," she said. "Viktor's basically your hero!"

"He's Durmstrang! He's the Durmstrang _Champion,_ for Merlin's sake!"

"So?" Hermione exclaimed, fuming. "He's perfectly nice to me, and surely that's what matters? Now, I'm sorry if you didn't have as much fun with _your_ date, but there's no need to be so horribly jealous-"

Ron scoffed. "_Jealous? _What would I be jealous about?"

"Beats me," snapped Hermione. "But whatever it is isn't a good enough reason to try and ruin my night. You're supposed to be my friend!"

At that, Ron was silent, and Hermione was sure she could see a hint of guilt edging onto his face.

"And besides, it's none of your business who I go to a Ball with," she added, feeling victorious.

"You'd be surprised."

Hermione froze. Ron's ears were suddenly going red like they always did when he'd said something he shouldn't have. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

Ron looked right at her, all traces of anger gone, and that somehow made her feel worse than before. Her stomach turned anxiously, and she couldn't work out if she wanted to look away or not.

"Show me your timer, Hermione," he said, so incredibly gently that it surprised her more than if he'd shouted.

"I…" she began, but not a single excuse came to her head. Slowly, she lifted her arm towards him to reveal the number on her wrist, ticking on and on.

She watched as Ron mirrored her movements. His own timer came into view, and as he brought it closer to her arm, Hermione gasped.

Their numbers were the same. _Exactly_ the same. She stared, transfixed, as both timers changed again and again, perfectly in sync, perfectly identical.

"You're my…" She tailed off. "You knew?"

Ron nodded. "Since first year. But you always hid it, so – well, I thought you were embarrassed, you know. That it was me."

"You moron," breathed Hermione. "I had no idea."

"I figured that, but by then it was too late. I'd kept it secret too long."

Tentatively, Hermione took Ron's freckled arm in her hand and brushed a thumb over the collection of numbers. "I was waiting all that time," she said, more to herself than to him.

An apprehensive frown had formed on his face when she looked back up. "I'm sorry it's just me," he half-heartedly joked.

Linking their fingers, she squeezed his hand. _"I'm_ not," she replied earnestly. "There's no one I'd rather wait for."

-o-

[Word Count: 1521]


	2. the proof is in the porridge (deamus)

_AU: the day you first come into contact with your soulmate will repeat until you find each other (note: for the purposes of deamus i changed it so that it can only happen after you become an adult)_

-o-

Seamus woke to a pile of presents at the end of his bed and a banner hanging from the four-poster with 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' across it, flashing red and gold. It should have been the perfect start to his seventeenth, except everything was wrong.

His birthday had been _yesterday_. He'd opened those presents already, and then he'd spent the day with Dean and some of the other sixth years, flying around the Quidditch Pitch and forgetting about their NEWTs for once.

Groggy and confused, he reached up and rubbed his eyes. And then it all fell into place.

He was _seventeen_ – that meant he was an adult, and he could now find his soulmate. And if that happened, both of their days would repeat until they found each other.

Seamus ran a hand through his hair, bewildered. He'd always known how magical soulmates worked, but he never even imagined it would happen this early, and he wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do now.

It was at that moment that Dean chose to burst in, a party hat sat at a jaunty angle on his head. He was pointing his wand at the banner, and now little shamrocks were dancing across the material, confetti exploding around them.

But while Seamus couldn't help but laugh at the sight, his heart had sunk. This was exactly what had happened the first time. He had, for a second, thought- _hoped_… _Dean was seventeen already, after all-_

But no, that was stupid, and Dean's day clearly wasn't repeating, so he should just stop thinking about it.

"Happy birthday!" Dean was exclaiming dramatically, and Seamus was glad he was so preoccupied with the banner, because he was finding it hard to smile quite as widely as he had done before.

"You _made_ this?" he said, yesterday's words magically falling from his mouth.

Dean grinned. "Course I did. Not every day your best mate turns seventeen, is it?"

_Oh,_ Seamus thought. _If only you knew._

-o-

Seamus didn't have much of an appetite at breakfast. He kept glancing at Dean, guilt settling in his stomach, making it difficult to swallow. He desperately wanted to tell his best friend that he'd already _done _all of this – that he'd met his soulmate, for Merlin's sake – because they always told each other everything, didn't they?

But no, he couldn't. The slightest change to his day could mean he might never cross paths with his soulmate at all, even if it was just a conversation at breakfast.

(And anyway, they didn't tell each other _absolutely_ everything, did they? Seamus had never revealed how he'd near enough been in love with Dean since their first year; what did another secret matter?)

Taking another spoonful of porridge, Seamus cursed his former self for eating so damn much. He had to persevere with this mountain of oats or else they would leave for the Quidditch Pitch too early, but it felt like his throat was being glued together each time he swallowed a mouthful.

Luckily, amongst the crowd of Gryffindors at the table this morning, no one seemed to have noticed his discomfort. Dean, Ginny, Ron, and Harry were discussing Quidditch tactics for the upcoming game, and Seamus, who'd quite literally heard it all before, was able to feign attention as he kept fighting his breakfast. (Admittedly, it had become a little easier to eat, but only because he'd just given in and added an entire spoon of sugar to it.)

When he'd finally won the battle, he suggested they head down to the Quidditch pitch just like he had 'yesterday'. There was a chorus of agreement, and the group clambered off the benches, still chattering happily.

Seamus remembered the warmth he'd felt the first time he'd lived this moment, but now he was just on edge. Everyone seemed to be acting normally – how was he supposed to know which one was reliving their day? Then again, how were they supposed to know that he was reliving his?

He sighed. He couldn't really do anything except see how the day unfolded, so he joined the back of the group of Gryffindors. Almost automatically, he glanced to his right, knowing that Dean would join his side as they left the Great Hall.

Except he didn't. There was an empty space right where he should be. Seamus whirled around, eyes falling on his best friend immediately.

He was standing, frozen, a few paces behind the rest of them, a look of shocked realisation on his face.

Seamus felt like his heart was in his throat. "Dean, what're you-"

"Your porridge," Dean interrupted. "You didn't have sugar on your porridge last time."

Seamus didn't even need to ask what he meant. Within seconds he had tackled Dean with a hug, his feet lifting clear off the ground with the force of it.

"I wanted it to be you," he blurted out breathlessly when he was back on solid ground. "So badly."

Dean grinned. "Lucky, that," he said, and he looked so impossibly happy that Seamus felt like he was being lifted into the air all over again. "I wanted it to be me too."

-o-

[Word Count: 859]

-o-

**thanks for reading :)) reviews are always really appreciated!**


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